


Heart Broken

by pir8fancier



Series: Do I or Don't I? [6]
Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-16
Updated: 2014-08-16
Packaged: 2018-02-13 09:41:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2145984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pir8fancier/pseuds/pir8fancier
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rodney's POV in the hospital.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Heart Broken

Rodney spends the majority of his time in Walter Reed napping, watching HBO, and playing prime not prime. Given how neurotic he is regarding his health and, excuse me, coding on the floor of Dulles International Airport is certainly worthy of a rant or two, he should have been in full-blown hysterics. Strangely, he is the opposite, almost numb, as if his nervous system has shut down because it’s short-circuited from the overload. Blew an emotional fuse. 

The first thing he’d been actively aware of as he’d struggled to emerge from what turned out to be a drug-induced coma is the warmth and pressure of John’s hand, interlocked with his and gently squeezing, as if to say, it’s time to get up. A beepbeepbeep from somewhere very far away floats in and out of this physical fog, and everything is fuzzy and distant except for the pressure of John’s hand. Gradually Rodney begins to feel the prick of a needle in his arm and the scratchy cheap cotton sheets endemic to all sick bays rough against his legs. 

When the fog lifts enough so that he has the energy to open his eyes, the first thing he sees is John with a shit-eating grin on his face and hosting a beard. _How long has he been out for christ’s sake?_ Rodney moves to touch John’s face.

“Fuck,” he groans. His ribs are on fire. _What in the hell had happened to him?_

******************************

Given that most people do not have heart attacks at forty-two, and even though Rodney consumes enormous amounts of Cheetos and mainlines coffee, his current heart issues cannot solely be attributed to a lousy diet and too much caffeine. Several uncomfortable conversations with Jeannie, who has just delivered a nine-pound girl she has named Meredith, reveal that there is a history of heart disease in their family. And, yes, their father had died of coronary-related issues at a pretty young age. How young? Forty-five. When asked about this Rodney replies with near belligerence that he didn’t feel that it was worth mentioning at any point in his medical history. It isn’t relevant as far as he is concerned.

At least John has the courtesy of waiting until they are alone before ripping into him.

“Not relevant, McKay? _Not relevant_????” John isn’t shouting. It’s worse than that. He’s so angry that his voice, almost a whisper, is basso with rage.

By this point Rodney just doesn’t have the energy to do anything more than say, “If they’d known about my family history, they never would have approved me to go through the Wormhole.” He closes his eyes. He’s so tired. Whatever they do to him is good. He can’t stand this overwhelming exhaustion. With the only erg he has left, because he’s about to drop off into yet another nap, he scoots his hand over to the end of the bed. It takes a couple of seconds, but John finally takes his hand, brings it up to his mouth, and gives Rodney’s wrist a brief kiss. He knew John would understand.

******************************

The more prime not prime they play the more Rodney is able to quantify how many I.Q. points he’s lost. He figures about .5%. John rolls his eyes, clearly thinking that Rodney is splitting I.Q. hairs.

“Sometimes that’s been the difference between getting sucked dry and not getting sucked dry.”

John tries to placate him by saying, “Those days are behind us.”

It doesn’t work.

*****************************

A helpless John Sheppard is a horrible sight to behold. He straightens Rodney’s hospital room eight times a day, constantly adjusts the blinds as the sun moves across sky, plumps Rodney’s pillows, and flirts big time with the nurses so that Rodney gets the best care.

Although he tries to hide it, John is terrified that Rodney is going to die.

Which is totally crazy because John is the most fearless person Rodney knows. John’s not afraid of death. In fact, there have been times when some of the shit he’d done was so incredibly stupid and self-sacrificing that Rodney was convinced that John was actually committing suicide in an incredibly passive but undeniably noble manner. Initially, it was hard to divorce John’s incredible bravery from his alarming sense of sacrifice. At the end of year two, he, Teyla, and Ronon were holding vigil in sick bay because John had, yet again, done something insanely stupid while trying to save everyone’s ass but his own. While Carson was stitching him up, Teyla noted that John’s determination not to be the last man standing was in direct conflict with his deep-seated need to save everyone. At the time Rodney thought Teyla was trying to sound wise and only succeeded in sounding ironic. Now he knows what she’d meant.

Rodney can see the fear in John’s eyes and smell it in the corners of the room. John can’t stop touching Rodney. John props his feet up on the end of Rodney’s bed making sure their feet touch. He’s constantly taking Rodney’s pulse, holding his wrist, putting his fingers to Rodney’s neck, all this despite the fact that a bank of monitors is doing the same thing. Nobody is better than John in hiding emotions. When he’s looking directly at Rodney, John doesn’t betray any of his anxiety. He’s curled about his chair in his habitual slouch, with the sarcasm on high. It's when John is watching the monitors as the blips and peaks skip across the screen charting Rodney’s heartbeat that Rodney sees the fear. John leans forward in his chair, with his hands gripping his knee caps. The now-chronic exhaustion that John manages to hide when talking directly to Rodney manifests itself in pronounced brackets that frame his beautiful mouth. That the blips and peaks are normal doesn’t seem to mollify him. 

The night before his surgery Rodney scooches over to the far side of the bed.

“If you lie on your side, there’s room for both of us.” Before John can even respond Rodney says, “No arguments. Get your ass over here.” 

John ducks his head so that Rodney can’t see the expression on his face as he toes off his boots and slips into the small space between the guard rail and Rodney’s side. They don’t say what both of them are thinking: that he might not survive the surgery. Which is why John is essentially outing himself. Rodney mostly ignores the little voice that suggests that John is once again sacrificing himself to comfort Rodney. Neither of them sleeps. They listen to each other breathing all night long. John’s left hand never leaves Rodney’s chest, resting right over Rodney’s heart.

Rodney is actually overjoyed when they wheel him into surgery. He cannot stand watching John trying to hide his panic for another second. When they finally put the mask over his face and ask him to count backwards from ten, Rodney mumbles, “John, John, John, Joh…”

*******************************

_TBC_


End file.
